PART 3 // chapter 6-4

[모나리자]

그는 때때로 자신이 헛소리를 하고 있다고 느꼈다. 그는 흥분한 흥분 상태에 빠져들었다. "노파는 중요하지 않아." 그는 뜨겁고 불분명하게 생각했다. "노파는 실수였을지도 모르지만, 중요한 것은 그녀가 아니야! 노파는 단지 병일 뿐이야... 나는 서둘러서 넘어갔어... 나는 인간을 죽인 게 아니라 원칙을 죽인 거야! 나는 원칙을 죽였지만, 넘어간 게 아니라 이쪽에서 멈췄어... 나는 죽일 수만 있었어.

그리고 나는 그럴 수조차 없었던 것 같아... 원칙? 그 바보 라주미힌이 사회주의자들을 욕하는 이유는? 그들은 근면하고 상업적인 사람들이야. '모두의 행복'이 그들의 주장이야. 아니, 인생은 내게 단 한 번만 주어지고 나는 다시는 그것을 가질 수 없을 거야. 나는 '모두의 행복'을 기다리고 싶지 않아. 나는 나 자신을 살고 싶어, 아니면 아예 살지 않는 게 낫겠어.

나는 단순히 내 어머니가 굶주리고, 주머니에 루블을 넣고 '모두의 행복'을 기다리는 동안 지나갈 수 없었다. 나는 내 작은 벽돌을 모두의 행복에 넣고 있고, 그래서 내 마음은 평화롭다. 하하! 왜 내가 미끄러지게 했어? 나는 한 번만 산다, 나도 원해... 에흐, 나는 미적 이가일 뿐이야." 그는 갑자기 미친 사람처럼 웃으며 덧붙였다. "그래, 나는 확실히 이가야." 그는 그 생각을 붙잡고, 그것을 자랑스러워하며, 보복적인 즐거움으로 그것을 가지고 놀면서 말을 이었다.

"첫째, 내가 이가라는 것을 추론할 수 있기 때문이고, 둘째, 지난 한 달 동안 나는 자비로운 섭리를 괴롭혀 왔고, 내 육체적 욕망 때문에 그것을 시작한 것이 아니라 위대하고 고귀한 목적을 위해 그것을 시작했다고 증언했기 때문이다. 하하! 셋째, 나는 그것을 가능한 한 공정하게 수행하고, 저울질하고, 측정하고, 계산하는 것을 목표로 했기 때문이다. 모든 이 중에서 나는 가장 쓸모없는 이를 골라내어 첫 걸음을 내딛는 데 필요한 만큼만 그녀에게서 가져가기로 했습니다. 더 많거나 적지 않게요(그러면 나머지는 그녀의 뜻에 따라 수도원에 갔을 테니까요, 하하!). 그리고 내가 완전히 이가라는 것을 보여주는 것은," 그는 이를 갈며 덧붙였습니다. "내가 죽인 이보다 더 사악하고 혐오스러운 존재일지도 모르고, 그녀를 죽인 후에 그렇게 말해야 한다고 미리 느꼈습니다.

그 공포와 비교할 만한 것이 있을까요? 저속함! 비열함! 나는 칼을 든 '예언자'를 이해합니다. 알라가 명령하시고 '떨리는' 창조물은 복종해야 합니다! '예언자'가 옳습니다. 그는 길 건너편에 포대를 설치하고 무고한 사람과 죄인을 설명하지 않고 폭파할 때 옳습니다! 복종해야 할 것은, 떨리는 창조물이여, 욕망을 갖지 말아야 합니다. 왜냐하면 그것은 당신에게 맞지 않기 때문입니다!... 나는 그 늙은 여자를 결코 용서하지 않을 것입니다!" 그의 머리카락은 땀에 젖었고, 떨리는 입술은 말라붙었고, 그의 눈은 천장을 응시하고 있었다.

"어머니, 자매님—내가 얼마나 그들을 사랑했는지! 왜 지금 그들을 미워하는 거지? 네, 미워요, 그들에게 육체적 증오를 느껴요, 그들이 내 가까이에 있는 걸 견딜 수 없어요... 나는 어머니에게 다가가 키스를 했어요, 기억나요... 그녀를 껴안고 그녀가 알면 어떨까 생각했어요... 그때 그녀에게 말해야 할까요?

바로 그럴 수도 있을 거예요.... 그녀도 나와 똑같을 거야," 그는 마치 섬망에 시달리듯 생각하려고 애쓰며 덧붙였다. "아, 지금 그 노파가 얼마나 미운지! 그녀가 살아난다면 다시 죽여야 할 것 같아요! 불쌍한 리자베타! 왜 그녀가 들어왔을까요?... ​​하지만 이상하게도, 왜 나는 그녀를 거의 생각하지 않는 걸까요, 마치 내가 그녀를 죽이지 않은 것처럼? 리자베타! 소니아! 불쌍하고 온화한 것들, 온화한 눈을 가진... 사랑하는 여성들이여! 왜 그들은 울지 않을까? 왜 그들은 신음하지 않을까? 그들은 모든 것을 포기합니다... 그들의 눈은 부드럽고 상냥합니다... 소니아, 소니아! 상냥한 소니아!” 그는 의식을 잃었습니다. 그가 어떻게 거리로 나왔는지 기억하지 못하는 것이 이상하게 보였습니다. 늦은 저녁이었습니다.

황혼이 지고 보름달이 점점 더 밝게 빛나고 있었습니다. 하지만 공기 중에

숨가쁨이 이상하게 느껴졌습니다. 거리에는 사람들이 붐볐습니다. 일꾼과 사업가들이 집으로 가는 길이었습니다. 다른 사람들은 산책을 나왔습니다. 모르타르, 먼지, 고인 물 냄새가 났습니다. 라스콜니코프는 슬프고 불안하게 걸어갔습니다. 그는 목적을 가지고 나왔다는 것을 분명히 알고 있었고 서둘러 무언가를 해야 했지만 무엇을 했는지 잊었습니다. 갑자기 그는 움직이지 않고 서서 길 건너편에 서서 자신을 손짓하는 남자를 보았습니다.

그는 그에게 건너갔지만, 그 남자는 즉시 돌아서서 고개를 숙인 채 걸어갔습니다. 마치 그가 그에게 아무런 신호도 보내지 않은 것처럼 말입니다. "기다려, 그가 정말 손짓했니?" 라스콜니코프는 의아해했지만, 그를 따라잡으려고 했다. 그가 열 걸음 안에 있었을 때 그는 그를 알아보고 두려워했다. 긴 코트를 입고 어깨를 구부린 그 남자였다. 라스콜니코프는 멀리서 그를 따라갔다. 그의 심장은 뛰고 있었다. 그들은 방향을 틀었다. 그 남자는 여전히 뒤돌아보지 않았다.

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5097p

At moments he felt he was raving. He sank into a state of feverish excitement. “The old woman is of no consequence,” he thought, hotly and incoherently. “The old woman was a mistake perhaps, but she is not what matters! The old woman was only an illness.... I was in a hurry to overstep.... I didn’t kill a human being, but a principle! I killed the principle, but I didn’t overstep, I stopped on this side.... I was only capable of killing.

And it seems I wasn’t even capable of that... Principle? Why was that fool Razumihin abusing the socialists? They are industrious, commercial people; ‘the happiness of all’ is their case. No, life is only given to me once and I shall never have it again; I don’t want to wait for ‘the happiness of all.’ I want to live myself, or else better not live at all.

I simply couldn’t pass by my mother starving, keeping my rouble in my pocket while I waited for the ‘happiness of all.’ I am putting my little brick into the happiness of all and so my heart is at peace. Ha-ha! Why have you let me slip? I only live once, I too want.... Ech, I am an æsthetic louse and nothing more,” he added suddenly, laughing like a madman. “Yes, I am certainly a louse,” he went on, clutching at the idea, gloating over it and playing with it with vindictive pleasure.

“In the first place, because I can reason that I am one, and secondly, because for a month past I have been troubling benevolent Providence, calling it to witness that not for my own fleshly lusts did I undertake it, but with a grand and noble object—ha-ha! Thirdly, because I aimed at carrying it out as justly as possible, weighing, measuring and calculating. Of all the lice I picked out the most useless one and proposed to take from her only as much as I needed for the first step, no more nor less (so the rest would have gone to a monastery, according to her will, ha-ha!). And what shows that I am utterly a louse,” he added, grinding his teeth, “is that I am perhaps viler and more loathsome than the louse I killed, and I felt beforehand that I should tell myself so after killing her.

Can anything be compared with the horror of that? The vulgarity! The abjectness! I understand the ‘prophet’ with his sabre, on his steed: Allah commands and ‘trembling’ creation must obey! The ‘prophet’ is right, he is right when he sets a battery across the street and blows up the innocent and the guilty without deigning to explain! It’s for you to obey, trembling creation, and not to have desires, for that’s not for you!... I shall never, never forgive the old woman!” His hair was soaked with sweat, his quivering lips were parched, his eyes were fixed on the ceiling.

“Mother, sister—how I loved them! Why do I hate them now? Yes, I hate them, I feel a physical hatred for them, I can’t bear them near me.... I went up to my mother and kissed her, I remember.... To embrace her and think if she only knew... shall I tell her then?

That’s just what I might do.... She must be the same as I am,” he added, straining himself to think, as it were struggling with delirium. “Ah, how I hate the old woman now! I feel I should kill her again if she came to life! Poor Lizaveta! Why did she come in?... It’s strange though, why is it I scarcely ever think of her, as though I hadn’t killed her? Lizaveta! Sonia! Poor gentle things, with gentle eyes.... Dear women! Why don’t they weep? Why don’t they moan? They give up everything... their eyes are soft and gentle.... Sonia, Sonia! Gentle Sonia!” He lost consciousness; it seemed strange to him that he didn’t remember how he got into the street. It was late evening.

The twilight had fallen and the full moon was shining more and more brightly; but there was a peculiar

breathlessness in the air. There were crowds of people in the street; workmen and business people were making their way home; other people had come out for a walk; there was a smell of mortar, dust and stagnant water. Raskolnikov walked along, mournful and anxious; he was distinctly aware of having come out with a purpose, of having to do something in a hurry, but what it was he had forgotten. Suddenly he stood still and saw a man standing on the other side of the street, beckoning to him.

He crossed over to him, but at once the man turned and walked away with his head hanging, as though he had made no sign to him. “Stay, did he really beckon?” Raskolnikov wondered, but he tried to overtake him. When he was within ten paces he recognised him and was frightened; it was the same man with stooping shoulders in the long coat. Raskolnikov followed him at a distance; his heart was beating; they went down a turning; the man still did not look round.